


The Fawn in the Garden

by UrbanAmazon



Category: El Laberinto del Fauno | Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Genre: Original Characters - Freeform, bloodlines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrbanAmazon/pseuds/UrbanAmazon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some stories happen again and again, and some barriers are never there at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Truth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/gifts).



Once upon a time, not so long ago, a little boy ran into the kitchen of his little home, crying out, “Mama!  Mama!  I saw a fawn!”

The little boy’s mama started to cry. 

The little boy had never seen his mama cry before, and it frightened him very much.  He grabbed at her apron and insisted that the fawn hadn’t been scary, and he hadn’t gone near it, but it had been so little and so amazing, he’d only wanted to share it with her to make her happy. 

“It is all right, Miguel,” his mama managed to say.  She dabbed at her tears with the corner of her apron, then dabbed the little boy’s face as well.  “I am happy.  I’m not sure why I was crying, but it is all right now.  Go upstairs to play, please?  Dinner is nearly ready, so don’t go wandering off again.”

It was a lovely day in late summer, and the sun cast infinite shadows from the forest trees to the fields of grass and moss.  Butterflies spiraled around patches of wildflowers, and walking sticks in strange and beautiful colours crawled through the garden and up the trees like Miguel could climb after them.  The fawn had been standing just at the edge of the yard, right where the grass met the thicker, more mysterious trees, with its white spots shining like white flowers on its back.  Miguel was certain he could have walked right up to it, maybe even said ‘hello’.  It was a _lovely_ day.  Little Miguel didn’t want to stay indoors, but he loved his mama very much, and went up to his room like she asked.  He was sorry for making her cry.

Miguel had many books in his room, and while they weren’t quite as good as being outside, they were still very nice.  Every year, on Miguel’s birthday and on Christmas morning, he received another special book wrapped in plain brown paper and string.  They weren’t shiny and bendy like the books Miguel read in school – these ones were hard and smelled like… well, Miguel wasn’t sure what, but they smelled like things different than books.  They were all in Spanish, but Mama and Great-great-Uncle Pedro had taught Miguel Spanish at home, so he could read them.  He chose his favorite, the one with the green cover, and settled onto his bed to read before dinner. 

They came from Miguel’s grandfather, but the name written on the inside of the book was ‘Ofelia’.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Miguel’s mama went outside to work in her garden, and Miguel quickly set down his book to run and join her.  He still felt very bad about making her cry the previous day.  “May I help, Mama?”

“I’m only weeding,” she said, but she was smiling, all the way to her eyes.  “You can help if you would really like to.”

Miguel rather liked the garden, but he didn’t yet know the difference between the weeds and the young flowers or vegetables, so he only went there when Mama was with him.  He liked the mud, the good smell of it matched with the extra dark potting soil Mama mixed in for plant food.  He liked the colourful little stones that he washed clean of mud under the hose and put in a tin under his bed.  Most of all, he liked the bugs, from the ladybird beetles on the strawberry leaves to the tiny mantis he found guarding the honeysuckle.  He even loved the spiders and the centipedes, because Miguel was a kind little boy, and he took them far away from the garden in a yogurt cup instead of killing them like his mama asked. 

“What’s this plant, Mama?” he asked.  He tugged a skinny green vine, but not enough to hurt it.

“Those are grapes, Miguel.”

“And what’s this one, Mama?” 

“That is a potato.  You can leave it, Miguel.  It needs to stay in the ground.”

Miguel found three purple stones, ten weeds, and one ladybird beetle that he carefully set on the strawberry plant.  “Mama,” he called, “what’s this one?”

There were muddy marks on his mama’s apron as she came over to the lattice to see where he was pointing.  A plant like a long, brown stick had grown up in the shadow of the biggest post on the lattice, and little white flowers were budding and unfurling in the bright summer sun.  “I don’t know, Miguel.  I think your papa must have missed it with the tiller.  We can’t have a tree growing in the middle of the garden.”

Miguel rather liked the idea of a garden with a tree in the middle.  He’d read one of his storybooks that had a picture just like that on the inside cover.  Perhaps if it grew large enough, Papa would hang a swing from the branch, and Miguel could swing while Papa and Mama had a picnic in the shadows. 

“There’s a hole in it, mama.”  Down by the roots, Miguel found a little spot, like the keyhole of the cabinet that held the fine china in the dining room.  This one was a little bigger, so Miguel stuck his finger in. 

“Don’t, Miguel-“

Something poked very sharply at Miguel’s finger.  “Ow!” he cried out pulled his hand back, hiding it in his mouth.  There was something _stuck_ in the top of his finger, and it _hurt_ so badly Miguel wanted to cry.

A fat bumblebee crawled sluggishly out of the hole in the little tree.  It wandered around in a few little circles, then fell on its side and didn’t move.    

Miguel had to go to the doctor’s office.  He didn’t like crying, but when the doctor tugged away the stinger from the tip of Miguel’s finger, a few more tears streaked down his face.  “Good boy,” said the doctor very kindly.  He had a soft-looking beard, and little round glasses that reflected Miguel’s face back.  The doctor patted Miguel’s shoulder.  “No needles for you.  You were very brave.”

Miguel didn’t feel very brave.  All he could think about was the fuzzy bumblebee lying very still on the ground. 

Crying made Miguel feel sick.  Instead of having ice cream, he asked to go to bed early that night, but when everything was dark and the moon shone through his bedroom window, Miguel couldn’t sleep.  Eventually, he slipped out of his bed.  He took one of his books and sat beside the night light next to his closet. 

This book had a picture of bees and little people living together in a tiny tree, with the bees nuzzling at flowers like sheep.  Miguel couldn’t quite reach the lock on the kitchen door to go outside, so he pushed open his window as far as he could go.  “I’m _sorry_ ,” he whispered out in the direction of the garden, and the little bee he couldn’t see.   


End file.
